


and the walls tumble down

by n_owsy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Double Drabble, Drabble, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I am essentially writing a descrptive essay but I think I violated the rules, Mild Language, Queerplatonic Relationships, Short, Triple Drabble, im not supposed to write dialogue in a descriptive essay right, no beta we die like tubbo in the festival, okay fuck i messed up, today i bring you angst, tomorrow... who knows, well... former relationship AM I RIGHT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_owsy/pseuds/n_owsy
Summary: there were three best friends—and then there are two.[DT DSMP ANGST.]
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	1. the crown falls down

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by bastille’s pompeii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He used to have two crowns — and both of them are ripped away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: whomever you are, you’re loved and you are deserving of everything and anything. keep your head up, love.

It all started with a crown.

And ended in a mess.

A messy pile of mangled blue petals of aster, roses, agapanthus and anemone while a dull crown with missing gems and cracks and nicks everywhere sits on top.

That’s what George keeps in the bottom of his ender chest in his pathetic excuse of a home without light — a home without love. And he hates it.

And so he hauls it to the river in the rain like a dumbass.

It’s pathetic, it’s embarrassing and— _and—_

It’s the two things that George has in his house that tortures him and his soul every day, taunting him _to open it up, cut himself apart because it’s all his fault, isn’t it?_

It was.

Maybe if he tried harder — maybe if he didn’t stay dormant for long, maybe if he stayed by his side longer then maybe — just maybe, they could’ve all been back together again with nothing but light in their souls and the world spinning under their feet, trying to keep up with the three of them.

Maybe he could’ve went out on another weird adventure with the blond -exploring new heights or mining way down underground. Maybe he could’ve went on everyday, expecting a new flower crown that Dream would place on his head, telling him _that he’s worth it, that he’s deserving of the legacy_ — of this one promise — and deserving of everything and anything.

But smog fills his lungs and rises up his throat, and it robs him of his breath and _he can’t think_ , _his head is back down under the fire again_ and he feels burnt out and dead as his shoulders buckle under the world cradled on him.

His body sags and he looks down at his own reflection.

A stranger looks back at him, with dead eyes and a hollowed soul — _and isn’t that fitting for a king who lost it all?_

He laughs and he laughs until the fire bleeds out of him and sucks him dry. He heaves a breath, the rain pelting his back and making him shiver as his ender chest sits in his arms like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

But this puzzle is missing one piece that doesn’t want to be found — George’s small smile trembles as water drips from his hair — and refuses to come back.

The puzzle wouldn’t have any use anymore — _just like him: a failure, a disappointment and a—_

Then he tastes salt on his lip and water dripping down his face— and he knows that it’s time to go.

And so he chokes it all down, and hears his heart beat in time to the dripping of the rain.

He tosses it into the murky water: petals, gold, ender chest and all.

* * *

The crown falls down, and he doesn’t look back once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i’ve removed it and rewrote it. EDIT: i have fully rewritten this one because i wasn’t satisfied with george’s so... have my emotional rambling thing here.
> 
> because if you’re here, then yeah — get yo dream team angst here bc we ignore the fact that georgenotfound is a bitch and he doesn’t want to get involved in the lore and thats the only reason why he got dethroned... that motherfucker


	2. the crown falls down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire scalds, and it burns. Sapnap has always been familiar with it.
> 
> But there’s a difference in ice-cold certainty — the kind that reaches your bones and stays there for a long, long time.
> 
> [Minor DSMP Spoilers]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: you are allowed to be angry, and you are allowed to be hurt. but always remember — somehow in the end, it’ll all turn out alright and you can always put your energy into something else.

Sapnap loved the rain.

Contrary to his reputation as a pyromaniac, the feeling of dry heat crackling at his feet and the feeling of _drip-dropping_ water splashing as he stepped on a puddle? Equally satisfying in his own opinion.

There was just something magical about the bubble of temporary peace in the way every living being tended to shy away from it and left him all alone with his thoughts.

Well. The key word here was _loved_.

Because now he’s running over wet grass with mud on his shoes as he chased after someone he loved until he got his own heart trampled into the puddles, his eyes watering with both rain and his unshed tears, and his lungs out of breath.

His bandana flies in the breeze as he heaved, his eyes chasing after the dark green hood in the distance — so near, yet so far away — _like a taunt_ , _like a challenge and_ —

His fists shake in anger as he breathes in desperately; the cold, cold water threatening to fill his lungs as he tries not to scream. _This is unfair,_ he wants to yell to someone who he knows is never going to answer. _I’ve been there longer than anybody else— why does the disc matter more, why don’t we matter more, why don’t **I** matter more—_

Dream vanishes into the night.

And there goes along with him a piece of his ownself as he hears the mantra repeat in his ears: an eternal echo of  _I don’t give a fuck about anything but the discs; that’s the only thing I care about in this server. _

(And it starts to sink in, like a nightmare slapping him in the face upon waking up from a dream gone bad that he desperately wants to deny, to tell it to _shut the fuck up, he’s not gonna leave us alone, he’s not like that—)_

Rain batters his face, and it soaks his clothes.

The chill wraps tightly around his bones, sinks in and it doesn’t let go.

Here’s the thing. He has handled fire better — he has stared it in the face, he has felt it lick the palm of his hand and he has greeted it many times like an old, familiar friend.

And he knows that fire scalds. Fire burns.

But the rain pierces and grips him with stone-cold certainty, like a bullet tearing through his paper-thin heart as he grits his teeth and shivers—

His heart burns with a cold, cold fury.  


* * *

And he wants to set fire to the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dw i am planning on a dream chapter to tie up this drabble series.
> 
> anyways, post-exile conflict arc was a bad time to be a dream apologist; like... man. why are you so obsessed with the discs?
> 
> if you like what i’ve written so far, consider leaving kudos, a comment or a bookmark. they fuel me, and you can always change your mind later! ty <3


	3. i’ll figure out a way (and get you of here)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a poisoned knife lodged in his chest, and it poisons everything else inside him.
> 
> So Dream cuts them away before they get tainted with rivers of hatred and red.
> 
> [Minor DSMP spoilers.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: hey, you. you’re tired and all, but that’s alright. take a break, and take care of yourself. there’s always people who will welcome you back — given a little bit of time. you’ll find your way home too.

And he is alone.

So very alone.

_Breathe._

He gulps in air desparately as he crawls inside the opening with shaking hands and a tired soul, opting to sit on the startlingly cold floor of the cave. He rubs his hands together, trying to find warmth as he blows into them and he shivers as he sits in the dark, all alone.

He hastily undoes the straps on his mask once he gets the feeling back in his hands. He fumbles once, then twice as it comes off and he throws it hard — hard enough that the enchanted ceramic mask cracks as it hits the cave floor.

A hysterical laugh tries to bubble out of him — but he shoves it down. He’s not hysterical — not yet — and he doesn’t even have the energy for it.

_He's suffocating. Why is he suffocating?_

The wind blows at his shivering form. He curls up into a ball and makes himslf as small as possible. He should be hurrying to his other base. It's near enough and dry and warm with all the resources he has that can reassure him that he still has power and control over his own life.

_You’re a liar._

He can't breathe.

The wind batters against him as he feels his heart and his lungs filling up with oil - with gasoline - with smoke and heavy, heavy poison. He tries to breath and clear his head, but he _can't._ He's trying to swim up from the depths of his own malicious thoughts but he _can't and - and he's drowning-_

His face is numb. He can't feel anything but the drop of water trailing down his face from his hair. His fists tighten and he thinks, _control control control—_

It's all his fault. It's his own, griveous fault.

_Breathe._

This is madness.

And he knows it.

He's just too far gone - _far too down the river of pain and hatred and blood that hooks under his skin with barbs and drag him down, down down and—_

His lungs rattle as he breathes in the cold, cold air — face numb and head dangerously filled with mist.

But maybe... he doesn't have to take them down with him too.

He doesn't want to taint them the way he's been tainted by madness and obsessiveness and paranoia, twisting him into a shell of himself that he _hates, hates, hates because this is taking so much from him — why did he let himself come to this?_

His mind clears a little, and his thoughts stay stagnant as he thinks about the poison, the barbs and the knife all embedded in him — and the strings attached to his heart.

He twists the handle of the poisoned knife lodged in his chest, because he needs to cut them off fast - _fast enough that they don't weigh him down on his goal, fast enough that they don't get infected and fast enough that it wouldn't hurt -_

Dream closes his eyes.

The rain continues on outside.

_Breathe._

* * *

And he cuts the two strings closest to his heart - 

One of goggles and blue flower crowns in calloused hands;

And one with fire in their soul and a bandana flying in the breeze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes heres the green bastard because i'm not writing dream team angst without him. yeah dw this is the actual end of the fic.
> 
> kudos n maybe feedback on these kind of serious + emotion-heavy things are highly appreciated! idk i'm planning on entering a writing competition n so i've been warming up o write like a 5k oneshot. i hv word goals for specific projects i have in mind n so i might take a while to publish a chapter on the actors au :>
> 
> ps. im writing the second chapter of the christmas party fic n i might publish it either today or tomorrow. the final chapter of that fic will be posted on dec. 25 :>

**Author's Note:**

> okay fuck i messed up i didn’t know that drabble = 100 words... i think the mass count for one chap here is 700 at most idk it’s not gonna count as an actual fic so i searched it up and apparently this is a ficlet since it’s 1k-2k?
> 
> man why must i mirror my emotional rambling into my comfort ccs. if you can’t tell — george = low self-esteem, sapnap = broken attachments & dream = loss of control
> 
> who inspired this? its the remnants of me reading so many stevebucky angst fics and i cant stop crying while rereading them is all. yes i still ship stucky pls leave me alone


End file.
